Chapter Seven

Haruki dropped to a crouch position to avoid a punch. He’d wanted more intense training. Be careful what you wish for, he thought.

The basement level of the compound had a warehouse-sized training area to fight in. Matomaru had set up seven targets across the room, and the job of the rest of the team was to stop Haruki from hitting them. The last ten rounds brought the time down to seventeen seconds. This current run had gone on for five seconds already, and he dodged three punches and several bullets.

“No speed powers,” the second-in-command had said. Even with said rule, Haruki had to adjust his strength.

After Brute Beauty’s punch missed, she absorbed a shoulder thrust from Haruki and tumbled sideways. Beam Extender slammed a forcefield battering ram into him, which caught him off-guard and threw him backwards. He planted his feet and thrust forward. A kick knocked her backward, and she threw up a shield behind her back right before impact. He closed his eyes right before Falling Star hit him with a bright flash and rolled beneath her. Gunman’s bullets hit his back and paused him long enough for Push & Pull to ensnare him inches from the last target.

With a mighty shove, he wrenched free of her telekinesis and slapped the last target.

Matomaru blew his whistle. “Fifteen seconds!” He tapped away at the screen. “A new record!”

The group let out a chorus of sighs of relief and strolled to the drink table against the wall. Haruki gulped down two zero sugar Gatorades and wiped his brow. “What’s next?” he asked.

“The rest of you have assigned patrols,” Matomaru explained. He turned to Haruki. “Would you accompany me to the testing chamber?”

Haruki followed the man up the elevator to the third-floor testing chamber. The walls and structure were reinforced to allow a piston system to test Haruki’s strength. He stood on the platform of the machine and stared at the piston with its hand divots. “Ready?”

Matomaru tapped away at the tablet. “Last week your strength was six hundred seventy metric tons.” He pressed an icon, and the machine whirred as the piston descended. Haruki tensed his muscles and held his body rigid. He lifted his hands and pressed against the divots. The machine gave off an indicating sound. “Hold it there.”

“Done?” Haruki asked.

The machine beeped and the piston retreated upwards. “Done,” Matomaru said. “Six hundred eighty-nine metric tons.”

“Think we can hit seven hundred?” he asked.

Matomaru thought about it and grinned. Five minutes later, they entered the second weight room and pulled a cooler of protein shakes and boxes of protein bars. “I have an idea,” Matomaru explained, “instead of doing sets of reps, go until you can’t go anymore.”

Haruki thought about it. “Until muscle failure?” The second-in-command nodded. “Alright.

For the next thirty-five minutes, he went from machine to machine, working out groups of muscles until his body screamed at him in pain. He limped to the bench as his muscles twitched from agony. Matomaru peeled the wrapper from three protein bars and fed them to Haruki. After downing those, Haruki drank three protein shakes, barely able to stomach the clinical faux-chocolate taste. With the last swallow down, he turned his power back on.

He let out a deep sigh. Relief washed over him in moments. “How do you feel?” Matomaru asked.

Haruki zoomed off and five minutes later, the flush of a toilet echoed through the hall. “Somehow my body knew to digest that awful quick.”

“Good to know,” Matomaru said as he made a note. “Again.”

Haruki repeated the process. He powered down and exercised until his body could barely move. After, he downed protein shakes and bars and powered up. Each time, his body knew to process the food quickly. The more I use them, he thought, the stranger my powers seem. He returned from the bathroom and followed his boss to the testing room. He took position and the piston descended.

“Good?” he asked as he held up against the piston.

“Hold,” Matomaru said. The piston beeped several times before retreating. “Good.”

Haruki did stretches. “What’s it at?”

Matomaru held up the tablet. “Eight hundred thirteen.”

A whistle left Haruki’s lips. “Really?” He laughed.

“Really,” Matomaru replied. “Take a shower and then rest of the day is yours.”

Haruki showered and dressed. A short jaunt and a quick run saw him entering the rich neighborhood. He reached for the button, but the gate slid open. Kenshi stood, smiling. “How are you doing after last time?”

He let out a chuckle. “I’m doing alright.” They walked up the driveway and past a luxury sports car. “Sorry to have scared you.” He recognized the nervousness in the boy’s grin. Officially, he’d been pulled out of school because of family issues. Kensuke deserved all the credit in the world; Haruki certainly wouldn’t have come up with a better excuse. “Family issues” was code in Japanese society for, “don’t ask.”

Kenshi nodded and they walked into the humongous estate. “I’m just glad you’re ok.” He stepped in and they both heard a whistle.

“Could you boys come here a minute?” Kenshi’s father asked.

Haruki stood up front, with Kenshi behind him. He bowed. “Sugawara-san.”

“Kawakatsu-san,” Kenshi said, and the lack of familiarity in his tone suddenly bothered Haruki. He gestured. “This is my father, Rintaro Sugawara.”

Rintaro Sugawara had certainly aged well, Haruki noted. From the picture he saw of the company’s founding, to now, the lines didn’t seem to be stress-related. As he watched the man scan him from head to toe, an analytic expression on his face, he couldn’t help but feel judged. “Kawakatsu-san.” The man’s voice held commanding tones, and yet, a gentle unease permeated the timbre. “My son is an upstanding youth. You certainly won’t do anything to lead our son off the straight and narrow, would you?”

Haruki flinched. He couldn’t stop himself. Of all questions he expected from Kenshi’s father, this came completely out of nowhere. After a long moment, the mother moved forward. “We’re concerned about our son’s integrity,” the mother spoke.

“Megumi,” Rintaro said, a hint of chastisement in his voice.

Integrity? Where had that come from? Haruki put on his best serious expression. “Sir, ma’am, I want to do nothing wrong involving your son.” Honestly, as he thought about it, what other way could he have responded? Their concern struck him as absurd.

The father held his firm expression a moment longer. Then, he smiled, seemingly out of nowhere. “That’s great to hear!” His exclamation seemed out-of-place to Haruki.

“We’re going to use the media room,” Kenshi said, his tone positive and friendly once again. “

Odd, Haruki thought as he headed up the stairs.

Ten minutes later, they’d completely forgotten about it. Kenshi had spent the last few days listening to Haruki’s suggestions. After digesting a few dozen selections from progressive rock to metal, he discovered a new love of music. “I knew you’d like it,” Haruki told him. They spent the next half hour listening to more suggested music, and tapping their feet to exciting drum beats and doing air guitar to the riffs.

Next, they played video games. While they played, Kenshi turned to Haruki and asked, “So, how long will you be out of school?”

“Rest of the school year,” Haruki explained. “I’d talk about it but it’s not my story to tell.”

“Ah,” Kenshi said.

“Tutors give me my lessons,” Haruki explained, “and the teachers send my work to them.”

They played for several rounds, and Haruki was glad the boy got too engrossed in it to ask further questions. They fired up a second season of the horror anime they started previously, and once again, at a jump scare, Kenshi grabbed his hand. This time he noticed it. The boy seemed engrossed in the screen. When Kenshi’s eyes drifted over, he pulled back and went red in the face. “Oh! Sorry!” he cried.

Haruki shook it off. “No problem.”

After the last episode of that season, Kenshi let him play a new JRPG that came out. Haruki got so engrossed he almost jumped when his phone buzzed. “Ah, crap.”

Kenshi looked at the time. “Oh, right.”

“See you around.”

Haruki left, but as he watched the door shut behind him, his thoughts coalesced around a strange idea. The first time he came here, the little brother had said, “his boyfriend is here,” and now, the parents asked him about his intentions with their son. Then the boy had gone red after touching his hand.

Nonsense, Haruki thought, and a laugh escaped him.